


Eleven-Foot-Six

by dappledplatypus (shut_the_jongup)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Aquariums, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky is a Huge Flirt, Fluff and Humor, Injury, M/M, MerMay, Merman Bucky, Merpeople, Mild Gore, Sharks, Steve works at an aquarium, Tony Stark Has A Heart, steve is a sweetheart, they all do, thicc steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-12 13:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shut_the_jongup/pseuds/dappledplatypus
Summary: Steve works in the rehabilitation center of the New England Aquarium.The world doesn't know much about the merpeople, other than the fact that they exist. So, Steve and the other staff aren't sure what to do when they find themselves with a badly injured one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my very first published CA work! Well, it was supposed to be for MerMay, but then I remembered I have a full time job and it had to be pushed back. I hope it's okay! There are a lot of short time skips and I can tell you for sure that this wasn't edited well. :) The second chapter will be posted soon.

When Steve’s phone went off, it was still dark outside. He squinted at the brightness from the screen. His alarm wasn’t supposed to go off until 5, but there wasn’t even a hint of light outside; just the black of night.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows with a grunt, eyes still half closed as he reached for the phone. He was surprised to see that the noise was an incoming call and not a faulty alarm. He rubbed an eye with his fist and squinted harder at the screen.

_Incoming Call: Natasha_

“Shit,” he cursed, rolling over and sitting up to reach for the lamp on his bedside table. He flicked it on and picked up.

“H––” he cut himself off with a cough. “Hello?” Steve cleared his throat, barely managing to finish his greeting before Natasha was talking.

“Steve,” she asserted, her voice so strong and unwavering that Steve felt an urge to throw himself at her feet and do whatever she asked of him, “we need you to come in.”

“Okay,” he definitely did _not_ squeak out. He glanced at the clock on the wall beside his bedroom door. “It’s… three? Shit, what happened?” Steve threw the covers off his body and stood so fast his vision spotted for a moment. He hit the speakerphone button and tossed the device onto his bed before stumbling over to his dresser.

“Can’t tell you over the phone,” Natasha said. “Just come in, ASAP.”

There was a click signifying she had hung up, and Steve paused. What the hell did that mean? Was it classified or something? He worked for the New England Aquarium, not the Pentagon.

Steve shrugged into a clean top and jeans. Both sets of his staff clothes were dirty, so he just clipped his I.D card onto the edge of a plain blue t-shirt. Security could deal with it. Natasha made whatever was happening sound pretty urgent, so he wasn’t about to do a quick load of laundry.

 

The aquarium was quiet when Steve arrived. There were three other cars in the staff parking lot, which was strange. Normal for 3 in the morning, but strange for 3 in the morning when there was apparently an emergency happening. On the way there, Steve had tried to think of possible situations that would require his help, but he couldn’t really come up with anything that the other staff couldn’t handle themselves. Maybe they just needed an extra pair of arms for some heavy lifting. Maybe no one else was available.

When he scanned his pass and entered through the back door of the rehab center, nobody was waiting for him. The hall was only lit by the secondary night lights, and it was quiet except for the normal, ubiquitous running of water and a distant clinking sound. Steve frowned, a surely furrow taking over his brow, and followed the clinks. It took him down the hall and to the right, straight to the Animal Urgent Care corridor. One of the two operating rooms was lit, and Steve made his way to the window for looking in on operations.

Inside were Tony and Natasha, both moving frantically around the table, but Steve couldn’t quite make out what was on it. Something large; maybe a dolphin? It had to be a mammal, that size. Or a large shark. Neither of his coworkers were wearing scrubs; Tony was their surgeon, but Natasha wasn’t even a nurse. She worked in public and private relations.

The trash can beside the operating table was half full with bloodied towels, and that snapped Steve out of his thoughts. He shook his head and pushed open the door.

“Hey, what’s––”

“Mister Rogers,” Tony interrupted him, pressing a clean towel over the form on the table, which was looking more and more like a shark to Steve. “Wash up and get a pair of gloves on.”

Steve didn’t hesitate to obey, not even questioning the lack of proper preparation and OR etiquette. He washed his hands at the sink, all the way up to his forearms, and pulled a pair of gloves from the box marked “L”. They were just a little tight, but the rehab center wouldn’t start stocking extra-large just for Steve.

“What’s the situation?” he asked, finally turning around to actually get a look at what was going on. “Where’s Doctor Banner?”

“He _was_ on leave,” Natasha said, “but now he’s on his way to the airport.”

“Well,” Tony started.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed out. That wasn’t a shark on the table––it wasn’t even a mammal. A sleek, steel-colored shark tail was hanging far enough off the side that a caudal fin more than half the length of Steve’s body rested on the floor.

“Tony,” Natasha interrupted. “He’s still conscious. Drifting, though, so you’d better hurry it up.”

Finally, way too slowly, Steve realized what exactly the creature was. Natasha, at the head of the table, had one hand on his chest and the other holding a clean, wet towel and wringing it out over his body.

“That’s not gonna keep him wet enough,” Steve said, his caretaking instincts and a few succinct shots of adrenaline taking over. He could deal with the fact that they were operating on a _mer_ later. He was barely conscious and obviously fighting to keep his eyes open, definitely in a lot of pain, though he didn’t make a sound.

“Well,” Natasha hissed at him as she wrung out the towel over his chest, “I would certainly love it if you had a better idea.” She moved to the sink to soak the towel again. Steve was almost sure the mer made an attempt to lift his arm in her direction.

“That’s not even salt water,” Steve said. “We can’t just pour tap water on him––”

“Hey,” Tony waved a hand at him. “Hello, yeah, I need you to help _me_ with _this_. Let Natasha worry about keeping him wet. He’s been out of the water for an hour. This is better than nothing. The sooner I sew this up the sooner we can get him back into some.”

Steve moved to Tony’s side. “What happened?” he asked.

Tony sighed. “His entire left pectoral fin is gone. Ripped off by something. Probably another shark––an actual shark, not… whatever. All I need you to do is hold his tail down. I know he’s in pain and probably panicking, but I really can’t do this if he keeps moving.” Tony frowned at him. “You know, now that I think about it, the gloves’ll probably just make it more difficult. You should dump those.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but did as he was told, glancing at the mer’s upper half, where his chest, shiny with the water Natasha was wringing over him, heaved with quick, deep breaths. Steve had to forcefully stop his thoughts from tumbling into something about how mer transitioned from breathing water to breathing air––it wasn’t the time. He could see that Tony was about a quarter of the way through stitching up the wound in the side of the mer’s body. The tail, he noticed, was beautiful where it wasn’t covered in blood.

Steve shucked the gloves and tossed them into the trash.

“Alright,” Tony declared. “Ready? He’s a thrasher.”

“Well, it’s not like you can give him narcotics,” Steve pointed out with a grimace. Carefully, he placed his hands over the mer’s tail. The scales were rough and sandpapery. His hands would probably get pretty scratched up.

Tony had, of course, been right about the thrashing. It took all of Steve’s strength to keep the tail still, and even more to keep himself from being moved by the force of it. It also didn’t help that the tiny scales seemed to be secreting some sort of slimy mucous that got all over Steve’s hands. It made keeping his grip a lot more difficult, though the stuff seemed to keep his skin from getting scratched by the rough scales.

Tony was able to finish up the stitches pretty quickly, especially considering the fact that he had to work around the bare flesh of the injury as well as the scales surrounding it, some clearly damaged and others sturdy but in the way of the needle. Tony managed to navigate around them, and the sutures ended up holding in a zig-zag pattern, which meant that the scar would also be zig-zagged, but hopefully the mer’s scales would eventually grow back over it.

According to Natasha, the mer had been slipping in and out of consciousness for most of the procedure, but he was awake by the time everything was all bandaged up, albeit barely. His eyes were foggy, and he kept blinking like he couldn’t quite see clearly. Steve briefly marveled at the two layers of eyelids he had.

Together, the three of them managed to carefully get him into a transport tank––though he really didn’t fit. They wheeled him to one of the recovery tanks, Steve behind Tony and Natasha to hold the end of the mer’s tail––which was, again, about half the length of Steve’s entire body––so that it wouldn’t drag on the floor. They needed to get the mer into a tank that could hold him so that he could rehydrate while they figured out what to do next and waited.

 

By the time Bruce got back around eleven that morning, Tony, Natasha, and Steve had managed to get the mer into a current-generating tank.

After taking a few scans and examining the mer’s movements, which were few in number, Tony and Bruce came to the conclusion that there may be nerve damage and possibly a case of minor paralysis. It was less that the fin had been torn off and more that it had been torn _out_ , in Bruce’s words.

After Tony had tripped over the mer during his midnight insomnia-walk on the beach that morning, he had taken a few pictures on his phone, and the initial damage looked awful. Steve scrolled through the photos. They were dark and only lit by the flash from Tony’s phone, but he could see how the flesh had been torn apart. Scraps were lying in the bloodied sand surrounding a deep, gaping, bleeding gash. Strands of shred-up muscle, ripped-out tendon, and other such sinew were strewn about around it, and Steve really had to give it to Tony; he’d fixed it up well.

Everyone ended up agreeing that the mer took after a thresher shark. He was a total of eleven-and-a-half feet long, and his caudal fin alone took up about five feet. _What Steve wouldn’t give to see this guy hunt._ The remaining pectoral fin, on his right side, had been measured to sixteen inches and a quarter. They had avoided measuring his primary and secondary dorsal fins; it would have been too risky to try and turn him over onto his stomach after the surgery, so that was on a secondary to-do list. From what Steve could tell, it was on the shorter side; probably about half a foot. But altogether, the mer was huge. Steve was surprised to see just how small he could make himself appear, curled up with his back to the wall down in the bottom corner of the tank.

 

•

 

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t have experience caring for large marine animals. He did––they got dolphins, seals, and small sharks all the time. But the mer was nothing like any of those, and it’s not like Steve could just Google what his normal habits were supposed to be.

Nobody had any idea how mer lived. There were barely any records of sightings, let alone direct interactions. No average measurements, no habitats or behavioral observations. So Steve had been, along with his normal day job, on what Tony was calling “mer observation duty.” He had shoved a composition notebook and a cup of coffee into Steve’s hands and told him he was getting a raise. That was great and all, but Steve was more excited about getting paid to sit and watch their newest addition.

He didn’t seem to be afraid of any of them. The mer was lethargic, hurting, and obviously upset, but he had been showing them a lot of trust so far. It made Steve wonder if he had been acquainted with humans before, or if, perhaps, all of the mer were more well-versed in their knowledge of humanity than vice versa.

However, before Steve could officially start his new job, Bruce had asked him to change the waterproof bandages they had wrapped around the mer’s tail. Of course he had said yes; it wouldn’t be the first time Bruce asked a favor. The mer had already let the technicians transfer him into a much smaller container of water from where he was currently being kept––which was still the sea turtle recovery tank––not even big enough to fit all of him. The problem was that they couldn’t apply the bandages underwater. He had to somehow get this giant creature out of the tank. He and Tony had ingeniously pushed two tables together at the ends to double the length of the surface so the mer would fit, but Steve was on his own now and had no idea how to get the mer _to_ the tables. A crane would be helpful. Hopefully after they transferred him to the larger pool he would be able to just pull himself out of the water and onto the fake shoreline, where Bruce could just dry him off a little and then do his thing.

For now, he decided to start by covering the cold, metal surface of the tables with towels (it took six total,) feeling the mer’s eyes on him the entire time.

“Okay,” he huffed, approaching the mer, who looked severely uncomfortable curled up and crammed into the tiny tank. “So, I’m gonna have to pick you up…”

The mer didn’t exhibit any signs of understanding him, but he also didn’t seem confused. He just looked at Steve and blinked a few times. Steve decided to take what he could get.

“Alright, here goes nothin’,” he said, and plunged his hands into the water. It was cold, of course, but not freezing. The mer allowed Steve to wrap one arm behind his back, but then Steve wasn’t quite sure what to do with the other one. Should he go under the tail for a bridal carry? He could toss the mer over his shoulder like a firefighter. He cleared his throat, feeling very awkward being so close to the mer, who did absolutely nothing to help, and just stared at Steve unnervingly from a closer proximity.

“I’m just gonna…” he mumbled to himself, and then scooped under the tail with his other arm and lifted.

“ _Jeez_ ,” he strained, but it came out more like a wordless wheeze. The tail was _heavy,_ no doubt built of muscle and, in total, he would estimate the mer to weigh over 300 pounds, maybe even poking at 400. He would need to thank Sam later for pushing him so hard on the bench press every weekend. Steve felt like he was going to bust a vein or two as he heaved the mer onto the table––, which, luckily, was only a couple of feet away––, and he grunted embarrassingly loudly as he rested the weight down. The mer winced when he hit the table, and Steve realized that he had forgotten about and probably kind of crushed his dorsal fin.

“I’m sorry,” he said, only slightly panicking. For some reason, Steve suddenly found himself wanting nothing less than for the mer to dislike him even the slightest bit. “I’m so sorry. Next time I’ll make sure I have someone else here to help me,” he rushed out. The mer just blinked back at him again.

Steve eased his arms out from under the mer and adjusted his tail, which hadn’t quite made it all the way over. He lifted the end and placed it so that the mer was lying in a straight line––or at least as straight as Steve could get him, anyway––, and then heaved out a breath, leaning back against the counter.

“You’re heavy,” he told the mer, who, again, didn’t seem to care much about what Steve had to say. “Must be all that muscle,” he told him with a smile, then pulled open the drawer marked BANDAGES and dug out the same ones that Tony had used the other day. He closed the drawer with his hip and reached up to the cabinet to grab some cotton pads and then the waterproof tape. With everything set out and ready, he started to dry off the injured area of the mer’s tail. He used the edge of the towel that the mer was laying on to carefully pat the water away, then he washed his hands and got to work. He tried not to stare at the mer too much. Sure, he’d had plenty of chances to already, but not this close up since the surgery. The gills over his ribs were shut tightly out of the water, but they were still obvious and looked soft and delicate, and Steve _really_ wanted to touch them, but that would be rude––wouldn’t it? Well, if their roles were reversed, Steve would definitely think it was rude. The mer _breathed_ through them, for goodness’s sake. That would be like touching his _mouth_. And that was an intimate motion that Steve would prefer not to encounter with someone he barely knew, let alone this mer with whom he couldn’t even properly communicate.

The mer’s skin was smooth and wet, almost shiny where the scales traveled up and down his arms and shoulders. Well, scratch that; his skin was _definitely_ shiny. Maybe all that mucous he secreted out of the water was a good moisturizer. The texture was similar to the way a ray’s back felt, soft and kind of rubbery, but there was also an indescribable quality to it that made it very human, too.

Steve was surprised at how well Tony’s bandage had stuck to the mer’s tail, what with the whole being-covered-in-shark-scales thing. Maybe they made for a good adhesive companion. He grabbed a corner that was already starting to peel up a bit on its own, and then slowly pulled the whole thing away to reveal the wound underneath. Steve deposited the old bandage in the trash and took a look at the sutures. They seemed to be doing pretty well, all things considered. The whole area was definitely inflamed, and it looked painful, but that was to be expected. Steve could see areas where it looked like scales had been torn away, or maybe had just fallen off. But the wound was clear of all signs that would indicate an infection, and that was all Steve could ask for at this point.

“Looks good,” he reiterated to the mer, still knowing full well that he probably didn’t understand a word being said to him.

The mer didn’t seem to mind Steve touching his tail. He wondered how sensitive it was; if he could feel the weight from each of his fingers or it if was more a light sensation of pressure. The scales were rough and steadily coating themselves in a thin layer of mucous, which also appeared on the patches of blue-gray scales that traveled up the mer’s back, arms, and shoulders, along with the delicate flesh of his gills, though they were still sealed up.

In the end, Steve was able to replicate the square of bandage, cotton, and tape pretty well for someone who wasn’t trained in medicine, if he did say so himself. Tony was sure to point out a few flaws later, though.

“Okay,” he said, smoothing down the sides of the new bandage over the mer’s tail after wiping away some mucous that had gotten in the way of the adhesive. “I just have to confirm some measurements, and then we can get you… back in there,” he finished with a sigh, gesturing to the tiny transport tank. He looked over at the mer, half hoping to get some sympathy, but nothing of the sort made itself present on his face. Steve sighed again and began rummaging through drawers for a tape measure. “Fantastic.”

 

•

 

The mer could only stay out of the water for so long, something that Tony had concluded after their initial procedure on him. Now they tried to keep him in the water for checkups––especially after Steve nearly threw his back out trying to lift what they had confirmed was 369 pounds the other day––, but they would probably have to take him out in order to properly remove the stitches in about a week. Bruce had suggested they use the same cloth stretcher he had been transported in, and keep Steve around to periodically shovel water over the parts of him that weren’t being worked on. It wouldn’t take too long to get the stitches out, but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially since they would need to numb the area this time, and they still weren’t sure how the medication might affect mer differently from humans. The mer had been in and out of consciousness on his own for a good portion of the night when they had first gotten him, and they hadn’t exactly taken the time to administer proper numbing medicine before helping him. He had been given some painkillers via IV afterwards, kept submerged in the turtle tank, but the injected drugs hadn’t seemed to work very well for him.

Steve and Bruce theorized that this was due to the amount of muscle and fat in the tail; it would be more difficult to evenly distribute medication through the cardiovascular system. In the end, it was still difficult to say. The scientists just weren’t well-versed enough in mer biology to have proper dosage recommendations; it would be trial and error for the time being.

About a week after his arrival, the mer was deemed well enough to be transferred to the bigger pool. Steve watched through the glass as he tried to swim slowly, not seeming to notice him––or maybe he just didn’t care. It was hard to watch without frowning. He couldn’t seem to move quickly at all, and his body kept tipping to the right, pitching his steering. He spent most of his time just floating, letting the artificial current carry water through his gills for him. Steve bit his lip as he watched. The mer had stopped again, and was bracing his hands on the wall of the tank on the far side from Steve’s little window. The way he moved made it seem almost like some of his muscles just weren’t listening to him, not moving right––and Steve thought back to Bruce and Tony’s discussion about nerve damage and paralysis.

 

Tony put his hands on his hips, watching as the new mer floated underwater near the wall of the pool. The tank was built like a cave, the ground sloping into a deep, round cavern. There were metal railings around the sides, but only one small portion of the wall was glass, and they needed to walk down a small staircase to get to it. They used this tank for large animals that were unstable––there was a good amount of space, and the lack of glass prevented distractions and distress. The fake shoreline was nice, too, and made it easier for the employees to interact with the animals and get into the water with them.

“He looks depressed,” Tony decided.

“Of course he’s depressed, he just lost an appendage!” Bruce called from the opposite side of the pool, where he was checking the status of the water’s salinity levels.

“Should we give him, like, a ball or something?”

“Tony, he’s not a dolphin. That’s probably offensive. What would he do with it?”

“Hopefully throw it at your head,” Tony muttered. “Well I don’t know! Nobody else has any ideas––” he was interrupted when the door was thrown open and Steve walked in, carrying a bucket in one hand. There was a small splash from the pool, and the mer’s eyes appeared above the water.

“Hey, you,” Steve greeted him, smiling and ignoring the other two men in the room.

And, by God, the mer smiled back. Tony blanched, but managed to smooth his reaction over after a few stunned seconds. “I think he likes you, Rogers.”

Immediately, Steve was suppressing a blush like he always did when someone complimented him. “Oh––no, he just knows I have food for him,” he said, holding up the bucket.

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you for who you are inside.”

Bruce nodded, on his way back over. “You do spend the most time with him, Steve. It’s only been a few days, but I wouldn’t  be surprised if he starts showing some favoritism.”

“This is ridiculous,” Tony muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the one who found him.”

“Tony, he was unconscious when you found him,” Bruce reminded him.

“And? Did he not see that I was the one stitching up his tail?”

“He was probably trying to look at anything _but_ that.”

Steve rolled his eyes as the two continued to banter and walked over to a higher observation point at the other side of the pool. The mer followed him as quickly as he could, which wasn’t very quickly at all. He put the bucket on the ground and grabbed one of the fish––they had discovered that the mer’s palate wasn’t exactly difficult to please, and so far they were mostly giving him tuna and mackerel or a few squids. The mer didn’t seem to prefer anything over another. He simply tore into what he was given, swallowing scales and bones alike. Steve wasn’t sure he’d like to encounter that mouth full of teeth the mer had.

The first time Steve had tried to feed the mer, the night before yesterday, he had been nervous. For all he had known, the mer would be offended that Steve was offering him dead fish. Mer were hunters. They were an apex predator of the sea, and Steve hadn’t wanted to give the impression that he thought this mer wasn’t capable.

Steve leaned against the railing and waited for the mer to come to a stop a little ways away from him, since he seemed to be more comfortable with a bit of distance between them, so that Steve could toss him the fish. This time, though, the mer didn’t stop until he was directly below Steve, hands gripping the side of the pool and lifting himself up a bit so that he could rest on his elbows. When Steve did nothing more than blink at him, the mer reached up, hand outstretched and palm facing up. Silently and slowly––heeding those sharp, claw-like nails––Steve placed the dead fish in the mer’s waiting hand, the tips of his fingers just briefly touching his cool, smooth skin.

The mer stayed close to Steve throughout the duration of his breakfast, seeming to now prefer that his meal be handed to him directly and not tossed into the water like Steve would with any other animal. Except this wasn’t… mer weren’t _animals_. They were people. If Steve hadn’t believed it before, he certainly would now, after being so close to him and seeing that bright intelligence in his face and his mannerisms. The mer was obviously still in pain, but Steve liked the light he saw in his eyes, which were icey blue and a bit larger and rounder than a human’s.

Eventually, Steve sat down beside the mer, elbows resting on the bar between the railings, and watched him eat. The mer watched him right back, tearing into the fish he took from Steve with those sharp teeth, taking no time to savor his food. In fact, he seemed far more interested in Steve, even as Tony and Bruce (but mostly Tony) stared at the entire ordeal. Steve felt his reflex to make conversation with the man across from him kick in as the silence stretched, but what could he say? They didn’t even know if mer could vocalize the same way humans did, let alone understand them. And with Tony there to witness his awkward tendencies?

Steve frowned, and the mer frowned back.

 

“Ya know, we really oughta give him a name or somethin’,” Steve said after they left.

Tony rose an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Well, we’ve gotta call him _something_ ,” Steve insisted.

“He probably doesn’t even have a mer name,” Tony argued. “I don’t think they actually call each other anything.”

“Neither do dolphins or sea turtles, but we still give _them_ names,” Bruce quietly pointed out.

“Tony. I’m not gonna keep calling him _the mer_. It’s disrespectful,” Steve asserted, grabbing the door to the staff lounge and holding it open for the other two.

Tony rolled his eyes and immediately flopped down on the couch, then whipped out his phone and began to type.

“Why are we up to shenanigans already?” Bruce complained. “It’s only eight. Don’t tell me you’re––” he started, squinting at Tony’s phone with a frown on his face, but he didn’t get to finish.

“Aaaand Baby Names Generator says…” Tony paused with a flourish as the page loaded. Steve just rose an eyebrow.

“Ah, lovely,” Tony said quickly, clearly uninterested and just looking to shut Steve up. He held his phone for him to see.

“Buchanan?” Steve winced. “That’s…”

“ _So_ nineteen-twenties,” Tony supplied with a dramatic sigh.

“My mom named our first dog Buchanan,” Bruce said. “A big chocolate lab. But us kids all just called him Bucky, cause, well, _Buchanan._ ” He made a face at the name.

“There, it’s settled,” Tony said, pocketing his phone and clapping his hands together. “We’ll call him Bucky. I’ll get a sign made for the tank and everything.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Steve told him.

“Oh, come on, Steve!” Tony tsked. “You’re never any fun.”

“Wait, we’re naming the mer after my old dog?”

 

•

 

After changing into his wetsuit, Steve eased himself into the water slowly, obligatory goosebumps making their way up his body as the cold water surrounded him. It didn’t matter that he’d been doing this for five years now; getting wet was an occupational hazard.

Everyone had been ordered to keep the rehab center’s possession of the mer on the down low for the time being, not sure what the institution might do if they knew about him. Mer had been caught before, but never kept _._ They were too _human._ They were, to Steve at least, essentially the same, just with varying appendages. Because no one knew if they could speak like humans, though, it was difficult to measure their intelligence without close, frequent contact. This could be Steve’s chance. Plenty of people considered the mer below them, as if there was some sort of class system and they were a tier down. They wanted mer as “exotic pets,” and that really rubbed Steve the wrong way more than anything else. As far as they knew, the mer were a highly independent people. There weren’t many of them (again, as far as they knew), and it was assumed that they lived alone and were extremely territorial.

So, Steve was a little bit worried he might be rejected from Bucky’s temporary home, even though he always smiled at Steve when he saw him. He had no idea how to tell if Bucky even considered the empty tank to be much of a home, but it was better safe than sorry. Lots of scientists speculated that the mer were dangerous––that they were unpredictable and could tear humans apart the same way a shark could. Steve didn’t doubt that they were capable, but looking into the pool, watching Bucky swim around slowly, peacefully though still in pain, Steve had doubts. Or perhaps Bucky was being docile because of his injuries. He certainly didn’t look or act dangerous, but Steve knew better than to assume––an encounter with a swarm of small penguins last year had taught him not to judge a book by its cover.

Bucky was, undeniably, beautiful. The mer all were, but Steve couldn’t drag his eyes away from him. His tail was a monochromatic color scheme of silvery, matte blue; it was long and strong, moving in slow sweeps through the water from side to side, though its movements were hindered by the injury. When he was writing down observations for Tony earlier, through the small glass wall Steve could see the way the rows of gills on either side of his ribs fluttered routinely. The smaller, secondary ones on the sides of his neck were harder to see. They were small and mostly obscured by Bucky’s hair, which about reached his shoulders, dark brown and floating around his head. His nails were sharp and opaque, stunning and matte in the same way as the fins on his back and the sides of his tail, which were long, strong, and wing-like, though he only had one pectoral fin.

Despite the team doing their best, they had come to the conclusion that there was no way the mer would survive for long in the ocean on his own now. There were some other minor injuries surrounding the bandage––all of which had been treated––, a few deep scratches that were already scarring.

It was obvious that swimming was still difficult for Bucky, and it would take time for him to properly adjust to his change in balance. When they had first put him in the turtle tank, he had obviously been confused as he sank closer to the bottom. He had tried to use his arms to substitute for steering, but that wasn’t any kind of replacement for a whole fin, and he’d ended up just curling in on himself in the corner.

Steve realized that this was a permanent injury, especially if Bruce and Tony were right about the possibility of nerve damage and paralysis. One thing was for certain; Bucky wouldn’t survive for very long in the ocean. The most likely scenario was that he would have to stay at the rehab center. Tony was already throwing around ideas for some sort of prosthetic fin, but progress was slow, since they were so unfamiliar with mer anatomy, and it would never replace the real thing. Being able to study the fin on the opposite side might help––that was, if they could get Bucky to cooperate, and Steve was sure they could, based on his interactions with him so far. In theory, it was _possible_ that Bucky would be able to return home someday, and if he expressed the want to they would let him, but his odds weren’t good.

But for now, Bucky needed help, which was why Steve was getting in the water. He’d come up with an idea to help Bucky re-learn to swim, though he wasn’t sure it would even work, and, with Bruce’s supervision and Bucky’s stellar behavior, he had been okayed to get in the pool.

The entrance to this rehab tank––the largest one in the facility––was a sloped surface designed to mimic the shore of a beach, textured but minus the sand. The deepest part of the pool was only about nine feet, and Steve felt bad that it was so empty, but it was designed for animals in rehab, not an aquarium. As soon as Steve slid himself waist deep in the pool, Bucky cut off his crooked, circular route and began to swim back and forth on the side opposite Steve, hugging the wall. Okay, that meant Steve should probably back off a little, keep his distance for now. He tried not to blame himself; of course Bucky would be scared, or at least nervous. This was the first time someone had gotten into the water with him. He was in a vulnerable state, in an unfamiliar place. Steve had expected this.

So Steve backed far enough up the shore that he could sit down in the water with his ribs just above the surface. This actually made things easier, because he could reach the bucket Bruce had handed him on his way in. Steve knew that Bucky hadn’t been given anything to eat yet since that morning, so it felt a little mean to be trying to draw him out by bribing him with food, but it could end up being the only way to get him to the surface. Plus, he associated Steve with food, so he might expect it when he saw it was him.

Suddenly there was a hand on Steve’s foot, and he nearly screamed, biting his tongue at the last second as not to cause an unnecessary panic. Fingers wrapped around his ankle, and for a moment Steve wondered peacefully if Bucky was going to try to drown him, but the mer only seemed to be inspecting him, squeezing and poking at his shin lightly, jerking back quickly as if he was afraid that Steve might kick him or something.

The sensation of Bucky’s fingers on his skin reminded Steve of small fish brushing past him; feathery and a little bit ticklish. Thankfully, Bucky kept his sharp nails away from Steve’s skin.

When Bucky finally lifted his head above the water, he placed his hands on Steve’s knees, letting the rest of his body float behind him. He stared at him, and Steve realized that he wasn’t sure how to approach his mission. He shrugged to himself, figuring now was a better time than ever to try talking to Bucky.

“Hey,” Steve started out, immediately cringing at himself. He cleared his throat. “So, I’m just here to help you out,” he said. “I know you’ve been having trouble swimming, and I’ve got an idea that we could try… to maybe… improve that…”

Bucky did seem to understand that Steve was talking to _him_ , at least.

Steve cleared his throat again, and met Bucky’s eyes. “I am gonna have to touch you, just to show you how.” He gave what he hoped was a reassuring nod. Bucky continued to show no signs of understanding his words, but he didn’t look afraid or irritated. Steve sighed, deciding it would probably be best to just go for it, slowly, and keep talking to him.

“How about we go a little deeper so I can stand up with you?” He smiled at Bucky and gestured outwards, starting to push himself up. Bucky seemed to get the idea that Steve wanted him to move, so he pushed himself backwards and out of his way. He watched as Steve relocated himself until the water was up to his shoulders, and his feet were right in front of the mini drop-off. Bucky followed him, mostly using his arms to try and keep his balance. When he reached Steve, he stopped, and held himself upright in front of him, giant shark tail moving slowly under them. It was almost intimidating.

For a moment he thought Bucky looked almost shy now––maybe he didn’t like having Steve farther in the pool. But he didn’t do anything; didn’t go back under to hide, didn’t touch Steve. He just floated in front of him, like he was waiting. Steve shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Okay, so, is it alright if I…” Steve trailed off, lifting one hand out of the water and slowly reaching out. He had touched Bucky before, back when he had to change his bandages, and that had well acquainted them with each other, but touching Bucky in his territory had the potential to come off as a threat. However, Bucky didn’t flinch. In fact, he moved closer until Steve’s hand was resting lightly on his shoulder. He never broke eye contact, and Steve had never felt more like somebody was staring into his soul. He grinned at Bucky, who smiled back. At least facial expressions were pretty much universal modes of communication.

“Great,” Steve said quietly. “So, I want you to kind of lay on your side… um, on your left side, so that this,” he slid his hand down to tap Bucky’s remaining pectoral fin. “Is pointing upwards, just like you dorsal fin usually does.” He moved his hands to try and simulate the direction he wanted Bucky to move in.

Bucky just blinked at him again, and Steve sighed.

“Okay, how about this. I’ll try to move you myself, and hope that you’re okay with that.”

Blink.

Steve glanced up at Bruce, who was sitting in the corner, only to see him shrug and offer no help.

Very slowly, Steve moved one hand to the right side of Bucky’s torso, trying to avoid touching his gills, and the other to his left. He pushed down on the right side and lifted up from the left, trying to tip him over. Bucky let Steve move him. He did wiggle a little when Steve’s hand brushed over his gills, but for the most part, he held still. Steve wondered if it had tickled. Steve finished positioning him on his side, but Bucky immediately squirmed away and righted himself. Steve’s heart fell a little bit when Bucky turned and moved away from him, grabbing the side of the pool and leaving the edge of the entry slope. That was okay, they could just try again when Bucky was ready.

Except that now Bucky seemed to be situating himself in the same position that Steve just had him in. He held still, letting the lopsided weight of his body turn him sideways on its own, and then he pushed away from the wall, tucking his arms in at his sides. This way he more resembled a dolphin with the way he moved, and although the dorsal on his back put a little more weight on one side, it was much smaller than the pectoral fin, and seemed to have little effect on his balance. The five foot long caudal fin didn’t seem to impede his movements, either, but at first, Bucky immediately pitched downward. He caught himself by leaning his torso up toward the surface. And then, by some miracle, he was swimming straight again. Still slowly, and with a definite wobble, but his movements grew more confident as he continued trying. There was no way this could substitute for a mer’s natural way of swimming, but that couldn’t be Bucky’s normal anymore. After a little bit of Steve wading around in circles with his hands on Bucky’s torso to steady him, he let go and backed up. Steve watched in fascination as Bucky adapted to this new style for about ten minutes before remembering that Bruce was in the room, and that they should probably tell Tony about this.

Bucky dove to the bottom of the pool––it looked a little awkward, but Steve was just happy that he _could_ ––, and then approached Steve under the water and grabbed one of his calves, tugging him forward gently. At his insistence, Steve let himself be pulled away from the ledge until it was no longer under his feet. Thankfully, Bucky seemed to know that Steve couldn’t be in the water the way that he could, and didn’t try to pull him down, nor did he seem to have any intentions of drowning him. He let go of Steve once they were in the middle of the pool, and started swimming around him in circles. Every now and then, his caudal fin would surface and splash water into Steve’s face. Bucky was starting to move with a little more grace, twisting different ways and using his arms more for mobility. It was nothing like the way he should have naturally been swimming, but it was _something_.

Steve outright laughed when Bucky surfaced again and used his hands to shove a small wave of water at him. A quick glance to the side informed him that Bruce now had his phone out and was pointing it in their direction, a smile on his face. Whatever. Steve sent a splash at Bucky in retaliation, and the mer’s eyes lit up unbelievably more.

As soon as he was out of the water, Steve hastily dried off and headed to the lab. “He’s swimming,” Steve announced as he shoved open the door, a little breathless from the excitement of Bucky’s improvement and still dripping wet.

Tony looked up from his computer. “What? Who?”

“ _Bucky_ , Tony. We figured it out.”

A smile similar to Steve’s spread across Tony’s face. “Yeah? How’s he doing it?”

“You gotta come see for yourself. Bruce is still in there watching him.”

 

After Tony came to see Bucky’s progress, he was so excited that he yanked Steve into a hug. “I love you, Rogers. We’re getting married in a month.”

Steve laughed, clapping Tony on the back. “Right. What will we tell your wife and daughter?”

Tony stepped back and swatted Steve’s shoulder. Directing his attention over to the side of the pool, Steve jerked back when Bucky popped up, sending a surge of water his way with the movement and wetting his shoes. Bucky rested his elbows on the concrete and promptly glared at Tony.

“You know Rogers, something’s telling me Bucky thinks you’re his,” Tony said with a grimace, backing away from him.

Steve’s cheeks colored. “Um––”

“Aw, don’t get all shy on me. Come on, tell me how you two got all buddy-buddy between this morning and now.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck and shrugged, keeping his eyes on Bucky, who had returned to his circles as he swam slowly––but faster than before!––around in his tank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve let himself relax as he and Bucky swam around each other, sending small splashes this way and that. He shut his eyes and ducked his head under to get his hair wet, and a hand landed on his shoulder, claws lightly tapping his back. He opened his eyes and took a moment to blink away the sting and haze of the salt water. Unlike Bucky, Steve didn’t have the luxury of double eyelids, and couldn’t see clearly at all, but he could make out just enough of the other man’s face to know that he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I spent a lot of time on this and still wasn't totally satisfied with how it came out, but I've decided that imperfections don't matter, especially 'cause this is fanfiction, lol. Drop me a comment if you liked (or disliked; we embrace critiques!) this tale (tail?) :D There's nothing better than knowing that people are reading and enjoying this stuff <3

Steve had just finished giving Bucky his first meal of the day when it happened, one week after the mer's arrival.

“So,” someone began conversationally.

“Yeah?” Steve responded without thinking, his back turned to the pool as he cleaned up.

“I was thinking maybe we could try incorporating some more variety into my diet here.”

Steve paused, nearly dropping the bucket still in his hand. After a quiet moment in which the only sound to be heard was the cycling of water through the tank in the room, he quickly set the bucket on the ground and turned around. Bucky had his elbows resting on the ground, holding his weight up and half out of the water. When Steve didn’t say anything, he rose his eyebrows pointedly, and Steve shook himself.

“You––you can talk,” he said intelligently.

Bucky shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

“You speak English,” Steve stuttered out. It wasn’t his brightest moment.

Bucky frowned. “Of course.”

“So I’ve just been making a fool out of myself this whole time.”

“The others, too.” Bucky nodded.

“Why––why wait until now?”

A shrug. “I wasn’t sure I wanted you to know.”

“But you are now?” Steve asked. “Sure, I mean?”

Bucky slid back into the pool, but kept his head above the water. “I trust you,” he said. “And I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Was the mer still talking to Steve? Was this actually happening or had he slipped, hit his head, and begun hallucinating?

“Humans do that, right?” Bucky tilted his head, crinkles appearing beside his eyes when he smiled. _Oh, he was teasing._

Steve laughed abruptly. “Yes, yeah, we thank each other for things. But what are you thanking me for?”

Bucky moved his arms through the water in front of him. “You’ve spent a lot of time with me,” he said. “You didn’t have to, but you were helping me. Still are,” he said.

“It’s my job,” Steve blurted, then wanted to smack himself. “I mean, that isn’t the only reason I helped! I also _wanted_ to…” He trailed off.

“Right,” Bucky concluded.

“Well––” Steve spluttered, still pretty astonished. “So, this _entire time_ ––”

“You trying to pick me up was particularly hilarious.”

Steve’s face turned bright red.

“You know I almost gave in right then and there… nearly started shouting at you ‘cause I thought you were gonna drop me.” He grinned up at Steve, who cringed.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I've never, I mean, you're pretty heavy out of the water." He cleared his throat. "Anyway… what happened to you? Before Tony found you, I mean.” It wasn’t the swiftest of subject changes.

“Oh.” Bucky frowned down at the water, and submerged the lower half of his face, blowing bubbles through his mouth for a moment before resurfacing to answer. “I was attacked.”

He looked up at Steve, who sat down on the side of the pool, nodding for him to go on.

“Most of the time sharks just ignore me, but more and more are moving to the northeast recently 'cause the water's getting warmer, and I run into them often now. Some of them are hostile––”

“But,” Steve interrupted, “aren’t you… technically a shark?”

Bucky shook his head. “We’re not the animal our features resemble. Related, yeah, but not the same species, and very different.”

“Sorry."

“Every once in a while, a shark will acquire a taste for us––it happens with humans, too. I think you have a word for it.”

“Rogue sharks.”

Bucky nodded. “Anyway, I ran into one. Er, more like it ran into me, but, you know. I don’t remember what you call it, but it was one of the big ones, a more dangerous kind.”

“What do you call it?” Steve asked.

“Carcharhinus.”

“A bull shark,” Steve said, recognizing the Latin immediately.

“Bull?”

“Oh, it’s uh––we seem to like naming fish after land animals they resemble. Bulls are… you’ve probably never seen one.”

Bucky waved his hand, dismissing the “bull” issue.

“A lot of scientists consider them to be the most dangerous sharks to humans,” Steve added.

Bucky nodded. “Absolutely. Lucky for me, I’m usually a bit bigger than they are,” he said with a grin. “So I scared it off, but it had caught me by surprise. Most of my fin was already gone.” He looked back down at the water.

Steve didn’t like the sad look on Bucky’s face. “I was wondering. You’re related to the thresher shark, right?”

Bucky looks back up at him with a smile. He swims back a little bit. “That depends on what kind of shark you mean by ‘thresher’.”

“Right. The scientific name is, um,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. He should know this; he didn't earn a degree for nothing. “It starts with an 'a'. Al–something? Vul…”

“Alopias vulpinus,” Bucky filled in. “Yeah, that’s it. We just call them alopias.”

Steve grinned. “That’s so amazing,” he said. He sat down on the side of the pool and dropped his feet in. Bucky began to move around him in half circles.

“You know it’s really frustrating that I can’t swim normally anymore,” Bucky said.

Steve frowned. “I’ll bet. But you’re getting pretty good at that sideways thing,” he encouraged.

Bucky smiled. “That’s all thanks to you.”

Steve felt his cheeks warm. “Wasn’t just me…,” he murmured.

“I don’t remember anyone else getting in here and gently holding me to demonstrate,” Bucky said, splashing some water onto Steve’s lap.

Steve laughed even as the cold seeped into his shorts. “Sure. It’s my job, I guess.”

“You get in the tank with a lot of marine life?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve snorted. “Well when you say it like that it just sounds like a bad pick-up line.”

“Maybe it's supposed to.”

 _Um._ At that, Steve was certain his eyebrows actually disappeared into his hairline.

“So no fun times in the water with the other animals?” Bucky continued, as though he hadn’t just outright started flirting.

“Bucky, you’re not an animal.”

“Steve, that’s offensive. We’re all animals.”

“Okay, technically, yeah, but you know what I mean. You’re a person.”

“I’m a little bit animal,” Bucky insisted. “At least half of me.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, and he wrapped a hand around Steve’s ankle.

Steve wiggled his leg, trying to shake him off, but Bucky held tight.

“Hey, quit it,” he said, laughing and using his other foot to poke at Bucky’s arm. Unfortunately for Steve, it just invited Bucky to grab that ankle, too.

“Come swim with me,” he said. “I like swimming with you.”

Steve rose his eyebrows. “You do? But humans are so bad at swimming,” he argued with a smile.

“So am I,” Bucky countered, making Steve frown again.

“That’s not true.”

Bucky snorted. “It totally is.” His tone fell into one of seriousness. “Steve, I know I can’t go back,” he said softly. He let go of Steve’s ankles and grabbed his knees instead, hoisting himself up to rest his elbows on them.

Steve tried not to squirm away at the cold water seeping into his shorts from Bucky practically being in his lap. He would probably end up in the pool later, anyway. Their faces were very close, and for the first time Steve could actually see the gills on Bucky’s neck, small and still contracting around the air. The undersides were ridged and pink; soft looking. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, stroking back and forth absently.

“There’s a lot we don’t know about the mer,” he said. “You could help us. The more we know the better we’ll be able to accommodate you. I know it’ll be awful stuck here… if you really want, we can bring you back to where we found you, but––”

Bucky shook his head. “Steve, it’s okay.” He put a hand over his thigh. “It’s nobody’s fault. In fact, I’m not sure if I even mind, with all the free food you give me. Not to mention the company. I didn’t know how lonely I was out there until I woke up here.” He smiled faintly, but it was genuine. Steve returned the expression.

“We’re thinking we could maybe move you into the aquarium building,” he said hesitantly. When Bucky didn’t immediately protest, he continued. “That way we could keep you here, but there’s also the option to have you moved to a larger rehab facility, though that’s across the country. But I thought… I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb, but I thought the aquarium would be less boring than that place. There’d be other fish and actual sand and plants… we have this huge exhibit called the Giant Ocean Tank… you’d definitely be the biggest thing in there.” He shrugged. “Where you go is up to you. If you really want, we can take you back to the spot where Tony found you.”

Bucky pushed himself off of Steve’s legs and landed back in the water with a splash. “I like it here,” he said. “I’ve never been to an aquarium, but from what you’ve said so far it sounds great. They’re big?”

Steve nodded his head. “It’s attached to this facility. I can show you pictures and stuff. And we could take you over there just to try it out––we can use one of the sectioned off tanks, those aren’t exhibits, reserved for research work, mostly…” He sighed. “I––”

“Steve, you better not be about to tell me you’re sorry,” Bucky cut him off, resuming to his slow laps in the pool with his head still above the water. “I’d barely survive in the ocean like this, trust me. Not for long when I can’t even swim properly, anyway. I can barely even feel the left side of my tail. And I’m happy to stay with you. You’ll be there, right? You guys can… study me, or whatever. Learn more about us.”

“You’re okay with that?” Steve asked, clasping his hands together in front of him and leaning his elbows on his knees.

Bucky shrugged. “Sure. It’d help both of our kind, as long as you keep the info away from poachers.” His eyes narrowed. “Now come swim with me. It makes me feel better about myself.”

Steve scoffed. “Using me for an ego boost?” He stood up to change. “I can’t help that I wasn’t born underwater,” he said, grabbing his wetsuit from the rack where they were kept.

“Ugh, do you have to wear that thing?” Bucky complained.

Steve turned around to frown at him. “What’s wrong with my wetsuit?” he asked, only slightly offended. _Having a favorite wetsuit is completely unnecessary, anyway,_ he told himself.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “It makes you look stupid, like you’re pretending to be a seal or something. It’s no wonder the sharks mistake you for them, though they _are_ pretty stupid.”

Steve directed his frown to the wetsuit. “But it keeps me warm,” he didn’t whine.

“It’s not that cold. Come on, it’s not like you’ll catch hypothermia. Just get in here.” Bucky splashed more water at him, and Steve jumped back to avoid getting wet.

“My clothes––”

“Your clothes,” Bucky mocked, “are also stupid, and you really don’t need them.”

 

It was awkward at first––for Steve, at least––, with Bucky staring unashamedly at him both above and under the water after he had removed his clothing and folded it up on the wetsuit rack, but the swim quickly turned enjoyable. He didn’t even bother to think for a second that someone might come in, or that he had other responsibilities to attend to. The only other people with access to this room were Bruce and Tony, and Steve was pretty sure they were both at lunch.

Instead, he let himself relax as he and Bucky swam around each other, sending small splashes this way and that. He shut his eyes and ducked his head under to get his hair wet, and a hand landed on his shoulder, claws lightly tapping his back. He opened his eyes and took a moment to blink away the sting and haze of the salt water. Unlike Bucky, Steve didn’t have the luxury of double eyelids, and couldn’t see clearly at all, but he could make out just enough of the other man’s face to know that he was smiling.

“I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this,” Steve said with a breathless chuckle after they surfaced. He flipped onto his back.

“Me neither.”

Steve froze at the sound of Tony’s voice and immediately scrambled upright. Bucky snickered, hiding behind him, his hands on Steve’s shoulders. His tail brushed the back of Steve’s legs, foreign and distracting, but not uncomfortable, and then it landed a solid hit to the back of his knees that no doubt would have made them buckle if he’d been resting any weight on them. Steve kicked backward blindly in a brief retaliation, but only managed to scrape up the bottom of his foot on Bucky’s rough scales.

He was going to have to deny this incident for the rest of his life.

“So you _are_ having a secret affair with the mer and making out underwater everytime you’re alone,” Tony said, coming closer. “I knew it.”

“His name is Bucky,” Steve said.

Tony rose an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like you’re denying anything, Rogers.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on, Tony. It’s not like that.”

Bucky’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and he leaned forward. “It’s totally like that,” he said to Tony. Very quickly, he pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, and then disappeared under the water.

Steve gaped and spun around for a moment, until he spotted Bucky making his way to the bottom of the pool. “Oh boy,” he murmured, and began to swim to the incline of the fake shore.

“Well, how about that?” Tony said. “You actually––wait. He can talk?” Tony pointed at the water, vaguely in the direction Bucky had gone. “He can talk!” Then he pointed accusingly at Steve. “You knew about this, didn’t you? I’m telling Bruce,” he proclaimed like a child whose sibling had just stolen his toy. “Jesus Christ you’re naked,” he stated after that. “Could this day get any better?”

Steve scowled at him as he finally reached the part of the pool where his feet could touch the bottom.

“Stay there, I’m taking a picture and I don’t wanna have to censor it before I sneak it into the weekly all-staff email update next Tuesday.”

“Tony.”

“What? I have to document this. Bruce will never believe me.”

Luckily, Tony only took pictures of Steve glowering _in_ the water, and then was even gracious enough to bring out a towel for him, because Steve was an idiot and had forgotten to put one by the side of the pool. He left him alone to get dried off and dressed, and as soon as he was gone, Bucky resurfaced, laughing.

“You’re going to be a menace, aren’t you,” Steve pointed out as he started to dry himself with the towel.

“Gotta entertain myself somehow,” Bucky explained, floating on his back. Steve couldn’t find it in himself to even be annoyed.

“You remember that big exhibit in the aquarium I mentioned before?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded from where he was floating in the middle of the pool, staring at the ceiling. “The ocean one?”

“Yep. Before you decide, I just want to make sure you know that if you were in there, you would be a really big attraction. If that makes you uncomfortable or anything, we can find another place for you.”

“Sounds like fun,” Bucky said with a grin.

Steve snorted. “I figured. Alright then. Also, you have to promise not to eat any of the fish.”

“Don’t think I could catch them if I wanted to,” Bucky said, and Steve grimaced.

“One more thing, we do have sharks in that exhibit. They’re kept well-fed, and we’ve rarely ever had issues with them and the other animals in the tank, but just because I know your last encounter with a shark wasn’t too great––”

Bucky sighed and swam up to him. “Steve, my last encounter with a shark wasn’t _too great_ because it was a carcharhinus. Er, ball shark, you said… you don’t have one of those, do you?”

“Bull shark. And God, no,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I don’t think any aquarium in the country has those. Probably too dangerous for the other animals.”

“That’s a good thing,” Bucky said with a nod.

“You know there’ll be children around if you go there,” Steve pointed out. “Kids. Young hu––”

“I know what a _child_ is, Steve.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “You think I can’t behave myself?”

“I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed,” Steve said, kneeling at the side of the pool.

“I’m sure I could find a hiding spot if I really needed to,” Bucky conceded, lightly punching Steve in the ankle. “I’ve always been good at squeezing into tight spaces.”

“Right.”

“I won’t have any trouble. You see this tail, Rogers?” Bucky asked, motioning to his five foot caudal fin. “This is built for hunting. I’m dangerous,” he said with a grin. “Back when I could move right this thing was lethal.”

Steve rose an eyebrow. “Maybe you won’t be troubled, but will you be _trouble_?” he prompted.

Bucky scoffed. “Of course not.” Then he winked. “S’long as you keep me well-fed.”

 

•

 

“So, now that you’re _talking_ , Seabiscuit,” Tony began.

Steve shot him a look, which went ignored.

“How about you tell us how that tail of yours is feeling?” He leaned toward Steve. “You know it would’ve been really helpful if you could’ve gotten him to do this sooner,” he muttered.

Steve fixed him with another glare, but otherwise stayed silent. Tony was sitting on the side of the pool, his feet dangling in the water and a clipboard and pen in his hands. Steve was in the water again, lounging in the shallows of the fake shoreline, and Bucky was pacing back and forth along the line of the drop-off a few feet away.

Tony sighed. “Can you please tell your fish-friend to come back up?” He kicked water at Steve.

“No, not really,” Steve shot at him. “He’ll come up when he wants t––!” His last word was cut off by a shout as a large body (Bucky) slammed into him, knocking him backward. Steve spluttered as water washed over his face, but it wasn’t deep enough to submerge his head.

“Bucky,” he gasped out, blinking the sting of salt water out of his eyes to see a familiar grin above him.

Bucky chuckled and rolled off of Steve, landing with a splash beside him in the shallow water.

By the time Steve managed to sit up, Tony was fixing them with a flat look, and Bucky was propped up on his elbows, looking at Steve.

“A menace,” Steve confirmed.

 

•

 

Once the public got a hold of the fact that Boston had its own residential mer––which, surprisingly, took an entire month––there was no going back. Surprisingly enough, there were no attempts by the government to confiscate him, which was convenient, because there was no better place to keep him than the aquarium, anyway. There had been negotiations, though––the aquarium's research facility was to share any and all mer-related news and discoveries.

Tony and Bruce's research so far showed that Bucky would most likely never make a full recovery––it wasn't like he could grow his fin back––but he was happy. Tony was still working on a prosthetic to help him swim, but there was nothing they could do about the nerve damage to the muscles in his tail. Bucky told them that there was some numbness; the way he described the feeling on the left side of his tail sounded just like what a limb that fell asleep did, and when he moved, there was a sensation that could only be described by what Steve knew as "pins and needles."

Bucky insisted it sounded worse than it actually was, but Steve wasn't fooled––he caught the way Bucky winced when he tried to move faster, turn sharper. He could go pretty quickly, but only for very short bursts, and it was obviously painful.

Despite all this, Bucky still seemed happy. He had been shy around the new environment of the ocean tank exhibit at first, but that hadn't lasted long. Steve could do nothing but grin as he watched him play around with the sea turtles and scare off the smaller fish, with or without meaning to. Bucky especially loved the children who visited the exhibit, which came as no surprise. There was nothing he hated more than being taken in for examinations and appointments (which happened a lot), and he usually spent the whole time complaining about how disappointed all the kids were gonna be that he wasn't in the exhibit and bugging the doctors to hurry up.

Steve had developed a better way to actually transport Bucky, which involved about four people and a folded tarp that they could lower into the tank for him to swim into. The small tanks they used now to transport him were large enough that he could fit by only bending a little bit, so nothing was hanging out or dragging on the floor.

For Bucky's checkups, they used a room normally reserved for dolphins, sharks, sea lions, or other large animals that had an elevated, shallow tank with small wave makers built in. When Bucky was laying down in the tank, they kept the water level low enough so that he wasn't submerged, but kept him wet enough. Steve no longer had the responsibility of dumping a bucket of water over Bucky every thirty seconds or so, which half pleased and half disappointed them both.

As the scientists began to experiment with medicine dosages, they learned quickly that Bucky didn’t like needles. The sharp sting of pain wasn’t what bothered him, though. Bucky would turn his head to avoid looking and proclaim that he was making such a huge sacrifice by letting them “shoot stuff into my veins!” and that he should be eternally appreciated. It was true, though––he was the first mer to ever be medically tested on (in the safest manner possible, of course). For the time being, they stuck to sedatives and muscle relaxants, from which side effects weren’t likely. The scientists would increase the dose steadily until actual effects began to make themselves known; for example, Bucky starting to talk nonsense or proclaim that he was sleepy, and then promptly pass out.

“‘M real sleepy, Steve,” he had mumbled one day.

He’d heard somebody say something about Steve not being there, which was odd, because wasn’t Steve usually there for his appointments? Maybe he had been feeling tired that day, too. Since Steve was Bucky’s best friend, he figured he could forgive him for missing the appointment.

He told Steve that the next time.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized anyway. “I was there, just ran in late. You were already asleep when I came in.”

 

Bucky loved the turtles. He had never seen one before––of course, because sea turtles don't tend to wander up into the northeast and Bucky had never been one for warmer waters until now. Even though Bucky wasn't used to living in it, the slightly higher temperatures seemed to help him. Cold water, as it seemed, only made it more difficult to move with his nerve damage.

The two turtles in the exhibit didn't seem to mind Bucky, but they weren't huge fans of him, either. They didn't startle at him like the other fish and rays tended to, which Bucky was very happy about. They moved even more slowly than he did, too, so there was no trouble keeping up. He could swim beside them for hours.

He came up to the surface to eat in the morning and at night, so the fish really didn't have anything to fear, but it wasn't like they _knew_ that. They were _fish_. But Bucky liked chasing them around for what it was worth, though he couldn't keep up with them as well as he could with the turtles.

Steve didn't work in the main aquarium, so he only saw Bucky when he had appointments or when he dropped by after work. But there were plenty of nice people who kept the Big Ocean Tank exhibit, and Steve knew that, even though they were a little intimidated by Bucky, they were taking good care of him. He stopped over to watch sometimes when Sam did his dives for feeding and maintenance, laughing when Bucky followed him around and caused minor inconveniences, like being in the way or scaring off the rays he was trying to feed. Sam would swat back at him, but underwater his movements were slow and awkward, and Bucky dodged them with ease and a grin on his face.

 

When Tony's prosthetic prototype was ready for testing, they brought Bucky back to the rehab tank, after relocating a few harbor seals to make room.

"Ugh, I forgot how boring it is here," Bucky complained as they set him down in the shallow water. "All these dim lights and metal… holding thingies."

"Railings," Steve supplied. Bucky waved a hand at him.

"Whatever. Let's just do this so I can go back."

Tony arrived a few minutes later with a large box in his arms.

"Hey Steve-o," Tony greeted. He nodded at Bucky. "Buchanan."

"Bew-what?"

Tony put the box on the ground and sat down next to them, out of the water. "Okay," he said. "So this is just a prototype. It's not fancy or anything, just a strap-on that should help you balance better," he told Bucky. "Since it's not all fancy with wires and stuff like my wonderful technology usually is, we can go ahead and put it on while you're in the water." Tony lifted the lid from the box to reveal a sleek, gray pectoral fin. He had designed it with measurements from Bucky's right fin, and mirrored them to make sure it would be as close a copy as possible.

He lifted it from the box and tossed it to Steve, who was still standing ankle-deep in the water next to Bucky.

"Why don't you go ahead and try that out?" Tony prompted.

Steve fumbled with the thing, trying to gather all of the straps in one hand while holding the body in the other. "Wait," he protested. "I don't know how this goes on, Tony."

"It's pretty simple, Rogers," Tony replied with a roll of his eyes. "Just put it where it goes and then strap it around his tail."

Steve looked down at Bucky, who was propped up on his elbows, gentle waves from the tank washing over him as he smiled.

"C'mon, Steve, get down here," he said, reaching up and grabbing Steve's leg, tugging. "I wanna try it."

Sighing, Steve followed the pull and knelt down beside Bucky in the water.

"By the way," Tony spoke up. "This will help you balance, but it won't make up for the nerve damage at all, so you still won't be able to move fast or anything. I'm gonna start working on something more advanced eventually, but––"

"This is great," Bucky interrupted him. "This is more than you should be doing for me. Thank you."

Tony looked surprised at the genuine words of gratitude, but he shrugged it off quickly.

“Well, that’s what I do,” he said. “Generous is practically my middle name, after all.”

Steve kneeled down next to Bucky in the water and looked at the scarring, hesitant to touch it. Bucky had never seemed insecure about it or anything, but it felt wrong to just grab him without permission.

“Steve.” Bucky waved a hand in front of his face. “Would ya get to it already?”

Steve did eventually figure it out, though not without what was possibly the most dumbed-down guidance given by anyone _ever_ from Tony, and after a lot of touching that Bucky had insisted was totally fine and not as invasive as Steve had been worried it would be, the prosthetic was properly secured.

"Feels heavy," Bucky said, swaying his tail experimentally in the shallow water. "Guess I've gotten used to not having anything there." He slid his palm across the smooth face of the prosthetic, curling his fingers over the side and running his hand around the edge.

"Let's get you back in," Steve suggested. He helped Bucky pull himself out of the shallows until they reached the drop off. He was about to ask if Bucky wanted him to stay in the water with him, but he had already vanished beneath it. Steve swam backwards until his feet touched the edge of the drop off again and looked down. It was hard to see through the water, but he could make out enough to be able to tell that Bucky was already having a much easier time moving. He did still have what Steve could only describe by equating it to a limp––he could just kind of tell from the way Bucky moved that the left side of his tail didn’t really listen to him right. But, despite that, Bucky’s swimming was hugely better. Innovative as it had been, he wouldn’t have to swim on his side anymore.

Steve watched as Bucky moved closer to him again and began to swim circles around his legs, occasionally poking at his calves and thighs. Steve looked up at Tony, who was still by the edge of the pool.

"I think it's working," he said.

Tony scoffed. "Of course it's working, Rogers. I made it." There was a smile on his face though, the kind that Steve only saw maybe a few times a year. The one that meant he actually felt good about his work––felt like he was doing something to help people.

Suddenly, Bucky's tail caught Steve in the stomach, and he wheezed. Tony cackled.

"Whoops, sorry," Bucky said, his head popping up over Steve's shoulder, tail still caught around his torso. "Forgot how long I am."

Tony pushed himself to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “Make sure you keep those innuendos coming, Shape Of Water. Stevie here _loves_ them.”

"You know, I put a lot of trust in you, Bucky," Steve said, ignoring Tony. "You could drown me right now if you wanted to."

"Guess it's a good thing I like you, then." Bucky patted him on the cheek and wrapped his arms around him.

"Anyone ever tell you you're more like an octopus than a shark?" Steve teased, trying to worm his way out of Bucky's grasp.

"I haven't really interacted with many other people, Steve. So, no, but thank you. I'll take it as a compliment. Octopodes are cute."

"You mean octopi… octopuses…" Steve frowned.

"I prefer octopuses," Tony chimed in.

"You're wrong," Bucky said. "The correct plural for octopus is octopodes, according to the Ancient Greek origins of the word."

"How do you know all this?" Tony asked, skeptical.

Bucky glared at him. "You know I was born in the ocean, right?"

"Doesn't make you a linguist," Tony countered.

"No, it makes me an expert on marine life," Bucky said. "And, in case you weren't sure, that includes the octopus."

"Wha––" Tony cut himself off. "Okay. Whatever. Sure. Octopodes. Pretty fun to say. I have a feeling it'll piss Bruce off, too, so I'm gonna go tell him." He stood and waved at them. "Bye!"

Bucky called another thank you to Tony as he rushed out, and then it was quiet.

“I really am grateful, you know,” he said, turning back to Steve, whom he was still clinging to.

Steve smiled. “I know, Buck. And we’re all happy to help.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I know, it’s just… odd. Being here, I guess.”

Steve’s smile fell. “You know that if you really want––”

“I’m not going back to the ocean, Steve,” Bucky interrupted, covering Steve’s mouth with his hand. “I can’t, you know that.”

“That’s not true,” Steve insisted after Bucky’s hand fell away.

“Believe it or not, I actually like it here,” Bucky said with a smirk. “It’s a lot more entertaining. In the ocean, all you do is swim around… doing nothing.”

“You never, like… swam with whales, or just watched the fish?”

Bucky snorted. “Watching the fish gets pretty boring after about two and a half decades. And I don’t like whales,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “They’re clingy and loud.”

Steve rose his a brow and eyed Bucky’s arms, still wrapped around him tightly. “And you’re not?”

“This is a _hug_ , Steve,” Bucky said, digging his nails just slightly into his back with a pinch and making Steve laugh. “A normal, kind-of-long hug.” He shook his head. “Don’t even get me started on the whales, okay? Just let it lie.”

Steve smiled. “I rather like whales.”

Bucky grimaced. “Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Bucky said, unwinding his arms and grabbing Steve’s wrists. “Now come swim with me before you take me back to the tank.”

Steve grinned. “You don’t wanna hurry back to show Myrtle?” Myrtle was the oldest sea turtle, and Bucky’s favorite to follow around in the ocean tank.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Myrtle is, like, a hundred years old. She can wait another hour.”

“If you say so,” Steve pretended to give in, even though Bucky was pulling him into deeper water with a strength he didn’t think he’d be able to resist.

Once they got to the middle of the pool, Bucky let go of Steve and went under, then started to circle him, much steadier than he had before. Steve spun around in place as he moved, a grin stuck on his face.

Bucky popped up again briefly to splash Steve in the face, ducked back down as he wiped water from his eyes, and then came up behind him, hands on his shoulders, Steve’s grin still firmly in place.

“See if you can keep up now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have a couple ideas that could potentially turn into a sequel for this, if y'all would be into something like that. Let me know and we'll see! I've been thinking about how Steve and Bucky might progress their relationship… there may be drama and secrets and new characters involved, but who knows! (hopefully there will be less small time skips, lol)


End file.
